Not the Best Start
by Helaros
Summary: Petunia Evans never expected to find a baby on her doorstep one dank London day. Now she has to cope with raising a magical child on her own – because she never married Vernon Dursley those two years back…
1. Prologue

**Summary: **Petunia Evans never expected to find a baby on her doorstep one dank London day. Now she has to cope with raising a magical child on her own – because she never married Vernon Dursley those two years back…

**Disclaimer: **The characters aren't mine – the plot idea might be. I'm not sure if anyone else has had the idea before me. Anything you don't recognise is likely to be mine, and I suspect any mistakes you notice in story canon are mine too. Everything you _do_ recognise, such as HP, etc, are J.K. Rowling's. Just in case you didn't know already.

**Warnings: **Slight swearing. Short prologue.

**Not the Best Start**

It was a dank, miserable day in London as Petunia Evans woke up in her flat and began to prepare for work in the half-light of dawn. To all appearances, this woman was the essence of normality – her straggly blonde hair falling down to her shoulders as she washed it with Head and Shoulders (Dandruff free!), her long neck craning up into the cupboards to see where that packet of Weetabix had gone and her thin hands somehow managing to spill milk all the way down her blouse and jeans.

Damnit. She'd have to wash those again – but she'd just done the washing last night. Petunia sighed irritably and finished her breakfast with much clattering and scowling. She hated this flat, but she'd had to move here because of her job. After she had refused that Vernon Dursley's proposal… well, suffice to say that she hadn't wanted to stay in Little Whinging any longer – and certainly not near that fat lummox. Just why her parents had thought she would have wanted to marry that self-important fool was beyond her.

That had been two years ago though. If she'd tried, she could have probably found a different flat somewhere else, away from that strange woman who cackled loudly whenever Petunia walked past and those teenagers who blasted Pink Floyd out as loudly as possible in the middle of the night and that odd couple at the end with their one-year-old girl who seemed to change hair colours every other day. To be honest though, Petunia had never been able to force herself to try. Her flat was near enough to her work and it wasn't as if she stayed inside any more than absolutely necessary.

Petunia yawned and scowled at the mirror nailed to the wall. She looked exhausted, but that was only to be expected – she had been up until four in the morning finishing off her article so it would be ready for the deadline tomorrow. She raked a hand through her hair and with a sigh, tied it back into a scruffy ponytail.

Hm. She had a feeling that she'd forgotten something. She glanced around the corner kitchen, and shrugged as she realised that nothing was out of place – until she looked up to where she stored her teabags. Petunia swore as she realised that they were scattered across the counter. That damn cat had been at them again, she was certain.

…Thinking of that, where was Wilde? Normally the black and white cat would have woken up by now and would be chewing her feet in an attempt to remind Petunia to feed him. She frowned, and then snorted as she realised that was what she had forgotten – to feed the stupid cat. In sloppy movements, Petunia dug some cat food out of a tin (after having managed to cut herself opening the thing and bleed all over the contents) and dumped it in a plastic blue container. Wilde would find it eventually. He always did find food.

Petunia raised her eyes to the clock and nodded to herself. Seven thirty. She should be going now; it shouldn't take her too long to walk to the headquarters (and didn't that sound militant? She was sure the editor of _The Month_ would love that idea). With a grimace, Petunia hoped that there weren't too many egg yolks over the walls. It had been Halloween yesterday, and some of the kids did go a bit over the top when they were denied their sweets. Petunia, for one, refused to give the little brats anything.

She grabbed her coat from where it lay bulging over a chair back and searched for her satchel. She found it in her bedroom – along with Wilde who was sleeping on it in a very contented fashion, yowling at her when she prodded him off irritably. Shoving her article in it, Petunia left the bedroom, and fumbled with the key of her three-roomed flat. After stabbing the door several times, she managed to insert the key in the keyhole and turn it.

Whatever she had expected upon opening her door however (and if she thought about it, she hadn't really expected anything) it was not a sleeping baby placed carefully outside, wrapped in light blue blankets. Mouth dropping open, Petunia stared at the little boy who was sleeping peacefully, and let her eyes drift to a letter left on top of his blankets. '_Miss Petunia Evans, Flat 7, Mill's House, Streatham, London.'_

Well, that sounded like her. She swallowed and looked down at the baby once more. _Um,_ her mind said helpfully. Petunia stooped slightly to inspect the baby – Harry Potter? Her nephew? What was _he _doing here? What had Lily done now? Petunia looked around, and poked Harry quickly on the forehead to make sure he really existed.

Apparently he did, according to her finger – and if that wasn't enough, her touch had woken him up, bright green eyes flying open to stare her in the face. They stared at each other for a few seconds, and then Harry opened his mouth and began to wail, assaulting her ears with the indescribable noise of agony and fear that only babies can produce.

Somewhere, in the recesses of her stunned mind, she realised this was not the best start to a day.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary: **Petunia Evans never expected to find a baby on her doorstep one dank London day. Now she has to cope with raising a magical child on her own – because she never married Vernon Dursley those two years back…

**Disclaimer: **The characters aren't mine – the plot idea might be. I'm not sure if anyone else has had the idea before me. Anything you don't recognize (such as Sean) is likely to be mine, and I suspect any mistakes you notice in story canon are mine too. Everything you _do_ recognise, such as HP, etc, are J.K. Rowling's. I also don't own Adam and the Ants - although I wish I did. -grins-.

**Warnings: **Slight swearing. Not that long a chapter.

**Not the Best Start – Chapter One**

Petunia was sitting down, staring blankly at the elegantly scripted words that flowed in bleak black ink before her eyes. Harry had been soothed off to sleep on her bed, in a frustrated exercise that had taken well over an hour, and Petunia had finally settled down to read the letter that had been left. She had been expecting something about how her all-too perfect sister was going off on a holiday to some wizard place, and oh, would Petunia look after Harry for a while? Her hands tightened around the parchment, crumpling its edges slightly before she absentmindedly straightened it again.

Ms. Petunia Evans 

_We regret to inform you that your sister and brother-in-law, Lily Rhianne Potter (born Evans) and James Michael Potter have officially been declared dead, cause of deaths unknown as of the moment…_

Petunia had never expected to receive a letter like this. She'd spent some time fingering the obviously expensive seal that kept it closed, wondering if all wizards liked to show off their wealth this obnoxiously, before breaking the bumblebee symbol in half. The wax had crumbled over her fingers, sliding off them in an unnerving experience that even Petunia could tell was magic – and if there was one thing Petunia disliked (if not hated) it was magic. Magic had broken her away from Lily, taken her sister from her. Magic had put a barrier up between the two of them – and now magic had killed her sister.

_The chosen guardian of Harry James Potter has unfortunately been named unsuitable, as he is currently in Azkaban for the confirmed homicide of thirteen muggles and one wizard on Hallow's Eve. As such, you are the nearest blood relative that can be declared suitable for the raising of a child, and so Harry James Potter is to be put in your care._

Oh, and that had made Petunia feel so much better. She came second choice to an insane mass murderer. Some confidence her sister showed in her. Petunia fumbled with the letter, her fingers smudging the black ink as she thought. How was she supposed to look after a child anyway? She was single. She had to go out and work for God's sake. She couldn't take some kid to work, and she couldn't exactly leave him here – she'd get the social services shoved on her. Couldn't he go to someone else?

_We are thankful for the co-operation we are sure you will extend, and leave you with all well wishes for the future and our condolences._

_Minister of Childcare, Eric Fiddle, of the Ministry for Magic._

Petunia could only think one thing as she read and reread the letter – bloody bureaucrats. They just didn't understand that they couldn't dump a kid on a person with no warning who had no way of supporting said kid. Someone up there was laughing at her.

She checked the envelope carefully, and frowned as her fingers discovered a thin piece of parchment that she could have sworn wasn't there before. Biting her lip, Petunia hooked it out, making full use of her long nails as she scraped across the texture.

Still frowning, she opened the letter and watched as ink swirled into easily readable words, in far contrast to the beautiful but illegible writing the 'Minister' person had sent her.

_Miss Petunia Evans,_

_My name is Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts. By now I am sure you have heard of the unfortunate deaths of your sister and her husband, and would like to extend my deepest sympathies for the sorrow you must be feeling. I am sure it would be some comfort to you to realise that they died fighting against the darkest wizards of our time – and their sacrifice will be remembered for years to come._

Some comfort! Petunia scowled, but couldn't help but feel a few of her ruffled feathers being soothed. His attitude was far more comforting and personal than the first letter, even if it was slightly too personal for her own satisfaction. She didn't even know the man, yet he talked to her as if she were a close friend – or, she was forced to admit, the sister of a close friend.

_However, I am sure you have a more pressing concern on your mind – that of the guardianship of Harry James Potter. We believed you would be by far the best guardian for Harry, as, although you are a single, working woman-_

How did he know _that_, Petunia thought, irritably, glad to have found something to be angry about. Was he stalking her? Having her followed? She glanced around her flat in a paranoid fashion, just daring there to be some sort of camera or something hanging from her ceiling.

_You have the advantage of being related to Lily (and by default, Harry). This is very important, as there is a certain ritual we need to perform to ensure the safety of both you and Harry – it's known as blood protection magic._

Ensure the safety? What was that about? Was she in danger? Did Harry have many evil enemies, like some Mafia people come to shoot him for… doing whatever various dangerous things babies can do? And she didn't like the sound of this magic thingy…

_This will do no harm to you – it simply means that no witches or wizards with hostile intentions can come within two hundred metres of your flat. We need this protection – many dark wizards will be after Harry as he has become a symbol for our people. He defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort, whom both Lily and James died fighting, and came out with nothing but a scar on his forehead – that lightning bolt scar that you have no doubt noticed._

To be honest, Petunia was forced to admit she hadn't seen any lightning bolt scar on Harry. Then again, she hadn't really been looking that closely – she thought that probably said something about her. Thinking again, however, she noted something wrong with this scenario. Her one-year-old nephew, who could barely gurgle out words other than 'Muma', 'Da', 'Pafoo', 'Mooey' and 'Wormail', had supposedly defeated this Dark Lord Volde-whatsit when his parents had died fighting him? That was… more than slightly unnerving.

_To activate the blood protection spell, all you have to do is take Harry into your home and mix your blood – no more than a drop is needed._

Oh. Ew. Petunia absolutely hated blood. And cutting a baby was just mean. She had a feeling that she wasn't thinking comprehensibly, through the shock. Although, of course, this could just be her subconscious' way of screaming 'HA! WHO'S PERFECT NOW MISS PERFECT PREFECT LILY! YOU'RE DEAD! HA!'

…If that was the case, her subconscious was starting to scare her.

Petunia glanced up, her eyes catching on the white clock she had hung on the wall, and she swore. Half ten. She was so late for work. She was going to be maimed. Or something equally distasteful – like being hanged, drawn and quartered.

She couldn't stop herself from glancing back over the letter again though, reading over the last few sentences uncertainly.

_There are a few wizards living near you. If there are any problems with Harry, I'm sure they'd be more than willing to help – but only talk to them if they can come within two hundred metres of your flat without sustaining any harm. If they cannot, go back to your flat and call out 'Blood lolly' twice whilst standing next to your fridge – someone will come within ten minutes._

_Yours sincerely, _

_Albus Dumbledore_

There were wizards living near her? Petunia shuddered at the thought, and glanced back up to the clock again. If she was quick, she could probably run to work, drop off her article and come back before Harry died or something…

She frowned at the thought. Leaving a baby by himself seemed an oddly callous thing to do, and she suspected it would take over an hour or two to get everything sorted out. Absentmindedly chewing on a stray strand of blonde hair, Petunia made her way to her bedroom, looking at Harry Potter sleeping contentedly on her bed, his black hair an unruly mess as he gurgled happily in his sleep. Unexpectedly, her heart melted, cooing the schoolgirl's obligatory 'Aww' upon seeing a small child.

Well, it wouldn't _hurt_ to look after him, would it? She could get a babysitter in or something – and this stupid 'blood protection' thingy didn't sound too hard…

No. Oh no. She was not going to fall in this stupid trap just because some irritating baby happened to look goddamn _adorable_ when he was asleep. Babies were nothing but trouble – and he was magical. So he was probably going to be even more trouble.

_Baby_, her subconscious cooed, and Petunia attempted to fwap it down irritably. She failed, and with a sigh went on search for a needle of some sort. Seemed like she was keeping the kid, and if she kept him she'd have to do this magic ritual thing.

She yelped as she prodded her finger several times, failing to draw blood through her own squeamishness. With a wail of protest however, she finally managed to drive it deep enough in for a drop of blood to well to the surface.

Now for the hard bit… Petunia approached Harry, trying to ignore the guilt that niggled at her and prodded one of his fingers with a needle – and Harry woke up to echo her earlier wail with one of his own. Trying to cover both of her ears with one hand, Petunia quickly smeared the two bloody fingers across one another, and watched with bated breath as a barely visible blue glow flared up before dissipating slowly.

Harry continued to screech, and awkwardly, Petunia picked him up, jiggling him carefully as she had seen other mothers do occasionally. This simply seemed to distress Harry all the more though, and his green eyes scrunched up as he shrieked as if in agony.

"Oi, can't you shut it in there?" a voice called insolently from the doorway – and Petunia could have sworn she had shut the door when she'd come in. Turning to look, she recognised the speaker as one of those teenagers who'd dumped school and come to live as a group in one flat. She couldn't be more than seventeen, with streaks of blue running through greasy brown hair and a metal stud pierced through her left eyebrow, above dark eyes. She was wearing scruffy clothes – ragged jeans and a t-shirt – and as she continued to slouch at the door, Petunia was struck by an idea.

"Know how to look after kids?" she asked her, and the girl nodded in faint bemusement. Wasting no more time, Petunia shoved Harry into her arms, and the girl juggled him in shock, finally hugging him close to her skinny frame.

"Here," she said. "What's with this? I just wanted you to shut the kid up, not _give_ him to me."

Petunia snorted. "If you look after him until… five o'clock, I'll give you a fiver," she bargained. The girl had been let through whatever Bumbledore had called his magicy thing, so she couldn't be evil – and she'd managed to stop the brat from crying.

"Tenner," the girl said, narrowing her eyes, and Petunia didn't bother arguing.

"Yeah, okay," she said, moving to grab her briefcase. "I'll pay you after, alright? And what's your name?"

The girl had no time to protest as Petunia began rushing out, and instead was left to yell out behind her, "Name's Sean!"

She paused and glanced down at Harry, who was now beginning to snooze off in her arms. "And don't you go laughing at it or nothing," she muttered to him belligerently, ignoring the fact that he had made no reaction to it. "Anyway, I don't even know your name."

Harry made a wet blowing sound and Sean snorted. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Act innocent, why dontcha?" She glanced over to Petunia's ticking clock and made a face as she saw it was just nearing eleven. She had Harry for another six hours.

"Okay then," she muttered. "Let's go introduce you to some decent music, hey?"

Not long later, the sound of Adam and the Ants could be heard all over the block of flats.

* * *

Thanks to Meta Capricorn for, as always, being a faithful reviewer, to Crissy Potter, to Shinigami (and in answer to your question – no, she's too young. Wish I'd thought of that at the time though. –shrugs–), to Millie-mione and to Thoughts and Pondering. Your reviews were much appreciated.

And, as always, reviews for this chapter would be warmly welcomed.


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary: **Petunia Evans never expected to find a baby on her doorstep one dank London day. Now she has to cope with raising a magical child on her own – because she never married Vernon Dursley those two years back…

**Disclaimer: **The characters aren't mine – the plot idea might be. I'm not sure if anyone else has had the idea before me. Anything you don't recognize (such as Sean, Zach and Christopher – although Christopher is related to a canon character) is likely to be mine, and I suspect any mistakes you notice in story canon are mine too. Everything you _do_ recognise, such as HP, etc, are J.K. Rowling's. Just in case you didn't know already.

**Warnings:** Um. None that I can think of. Again, not that long a chapter.

**Not the Best Start – Chapter Two**

Someone was out to get her. Petunia was certain of this. Her day had not been going well; finding Harry, getting into work very, very late much to the displeasure of her boss and then finding out she had another article to write as soon as she handed in her previous one – and one on some rock star who'd overdosed. Gossip. She wrote the gossip articles and tabloids with wild speculations that mostly she just made up. She did not, at any cost, write bloody obituaries. People tended to get pissed if you slag someone off after their death.

She stared blankly at her desk, swiveling slightly on her chair to look away and around at anyone else. Jill wandered past, a stack of papers in her arms, and she paused at the edge of Petunia's desk, a slight smile on her rounded face.

"Tunia, how are you?" she asked, and Petunia could help but smile in return, leaning back on her chair and wincing as she heard her joints crack.

"I'm fine Jill. Got some bad news today, but," she grimaced, "you know how it is. Life goes on." It really was odd, now she thought about it, how well she was dealing with the whole new-baby-and-sister-dead idea. Well, she never had been particularly close to Lily she supposed.

"Oh Tunia, are you alright?" Jill exclaimed in sympathy, waiting for Petunia to elaborate. When she didn't, Jill overlooked it and continued speaking instead. "I have some news that might cheer you up though," she said, leaning in closer.

"Oh?" Petunia said, trying to look curious. Most of Jill's news involved people in the office and their various scandalous doings – somehow, they just failed to interest her anymore.

"A man came in for a job interview today," Jill said with a smile on her face. "Quite the dish. Blond hair, tall, blue eyes, the works."

"You're married Jill," Petunia said, amusement in her voice.

"So? Doesn't stop me from looking," Jill protested, trying to look offended. Petunia laughed, and the two of them looked around warily for their boss. "Have to be going now," Jill said hurriedly, shifting her bundle of papers. "You stay safe, hey?"

"As always," Petunia said and returned to her computer as Jill bustled away. The hour passed quickly and at one o'clock, Petunia got to her feet, rolling her shoulders as she suppressed a yawn.

She joined the crowd of people as they headed downstairs and to the work canteen – Petunia honestly couldn't be bothered to go out to town and get lunch from somewhere that served edible food. As she got in the queue with the faint flashback to high school days that always accompanied this, her boss entered the canteen, talking intently to another man. Petunia raised an eyebrow – that had to be the man Jill had been talking about.

She studied him discretely and was forced to agree with Jill's summary. He was good-looking and a certain way that he walked suggested he well knew it. He peeled off from Petunia's boss, the grey-haired man smiling at him in a sort of befuddled way before walking away to his office.

He joined the queue behind Petunia and Petunia very studiously didn't look anywhere near him. He didn't return the favour though, and looked at her intently as she resisted the temptation to blush. After a few seconds, she could feel the blood creeping under her pale skin as she couldn't help but flush under his scrutiny.

This seemed to satisfy the man for some reason, for he let out a low laugh before holding out a hand. "I'm Christopher Clearwater," he said, his voice a low tenor.

Petunia took his hand and shook it firmly, professionally. "Petunia Evans," she said, and he smiled and muttered a quiet 'thought so'. Petunia frowned at that, uncertain, but he covered it up with a pleasant smile and a cheerful look. He looked younger when he did that – he couldn't be much more than twenty-seven, twenty-eight.

"You came for a job interview?" she asked, and he looked surprised before he grinned.

"Guess the rumour mill works fast here," he said. "Yeah, I did." He winked at her. "I start after lunch."

Petunia looked vaguely impressed. "That was quick," she said and he laughed.

They came to the canteen at long last, Petunia buying what could possibly be classified as a salad but probably shouldn't with dank green leaves and squishy tomatoes, and Christopher just grabbing a sandwich.

"Mind if I sit with you?" he asked, moving an inch closer to her, and Petunia tried not to look suspicious. Moving a bit fast, wasn't he? Still, it was flattering to have some sort of male attention at long last, and especially from a man that quite a few of the other women were glancing at with impressed looks.

"Of course," she said. "I guess you don't know anyone here?"

He shook his head and they sat down together at a table – and from over his head, Petunia caught sight of Jill giving her a laughing thumbs up. She blushed bright red, and Christopher smiled at her.

* * *

Petunia walked back into her flat with a yawn, hearing the sounds of Siouxsie and the Banshees battering through the building. She paused as she stuck her key in the door, and made a face. She had to go and pick up Harry didn't she? She sighed, took the key back and turned to follow the music.

She paused outside of a battered door from where the music was emanating with such force that the floor underneath her was trembling. Petunia knocked twice, politely. There was no response (she doubted they'd even heard her through that racket) and she knocked again, hard enough to bruise her knuckles on the hard wood. She swore as she cradled her hand and after a few seconds the door swung open.

A black haired man opened the door, and for a second Petunia wondered if she was looking at James Potter. At second glance however, she noticed all the differences – a narrower face, flatter hair, dark blue eyes, darker skin colour, pierced eyebrow and ears and maybe a year or two younger than him. In fact, now she thought about it, there was hardly anything but hair colour to tie them together. Oh well.

"Who're you?" he asked insolently, slouching against the doorframe and Petunia scowled slightly.

"My name's Petunia," she said through pursed lips. "Is…" she struggled to remember the girl's name for a few moments, "Sean there?"

Recognition – or something of the sort – came into the man's eyes, and he stood up straighter. "Right – you Matty's mum?"

"Matty?" Petunia asked in confusion, and the man shrugged.

"Eh, we didn't know his name so we renamed him, y'know? I'm Zach." He turned away from the doorway and bellowed into the room. "Oi, Sean! Matty's mum's here."

"I am not his mother," Petunia ground out. "And his name is not Matty."

"What?" Zach said cheerfully. "Can't hear you love. You've got to speak up."

"I said I'm not his mother!" Petunia shouted. "And his name is Harry!"

Sean handed Harry back to Petunia and Petunia cradled him awkwardly, surprised to see him awake and happy, apparently gurgling up at her (although she couldn't hear the noise he was making, his mouth was moving). She hooked a tenner out of her purse and handed it over to Sean, and Sean directed a grin her way.

"You want me to watch 'im tomorrow?" she asked. "He's no problem or nothing. I'll do it a fiver a day."

Petunia nodded gratefully, and noticed Zach scrutinising Harry oddly. "What are you looking at?" she half-snapped, and he threw her a reckless grin.

"He looks more like a Matty to me," he said with a grin. "I reckon the kid's going to grow up with two names now."

Petunia couldn't help but roll her eyes as he threw her a roguish wink and closed the door. She and Harry looked at each other and his green eyes – Lily's eyes she thought faintly – crinkled in happiness as he held his hands up.

She cradled him closer, carefully, trying to balance her briefcase on her wrist as she made her way back to her flat and began the complex balancing process of holding Harry, her briefcase and a key as she tried to unlock the door. Somehow she succeeded and walked in, nearly treading on Wilde's tail as that damned cat came to greet her.

Harry yawned slightly, and Petunia made a face. She didn't have anywhere for him to sleep – or any clothes for him for that matter. Why hadn't she thought of that before? She walked into her bedroom and froze.

Pushed off to one side, not far from her bed was a cot, decorated in red and gold (Petunia loathed those colours). Beside it was a bag, and Petunia got the feeling if she looked inside of it there would be clothes – and there were.

With a wry look on her face, she fumbled Harry into some clothes to sleep in and put him awkwardly in the cot, shoving a toy griffin in with him. He snuggled up happily to it, calling it something like 'Giffy' and she assumed he meant Griffy. Original name.

As he dozed off, she stood back with a strange feeling akin to pride in her. Maybe this wouldn't be too hard – all in all it seemed as though she'd had a pretty good day.

She turned away to cook herself some food, Wilde coming to nuzzle against her leg – and behind her, Harry sneezed in his sleep.

* * *

Thanks to Althea, millie-mione, Thoughts and Pondering (yeah, I agree. Then again, most children are sweet once they've grown out of the wrinkled prune stage and when they're asleep), Meta Capricorn (She is magical and will be cropping up later in the story. However, she will not be a metamorphmagus, just in case anyone else was wondering the same thing), Kagayaku, Dernhelm-caoran (At the moment I'm sticking to music I've listened to from around that era – I might develop on the artists a bit later), GS and Animus Wyrmis. Hopefully, I shouldn't take as long updating again and the next chapter should be posted within two weeks or so. Thanks again to everyone who reviewed! 


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